


Plan B

by Secret_H



Series: These Things Do Happen [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Always Female Sam, Dialogue, F/M, Female Sam Wilson, Lust at First Sight, Marathon Sex, Morning After, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Soulmates, Talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_H/pseuds/Secret_H
Summary: Sam Wilson is finally lucid after five days of sex. It's an aftermath, an interim, and a beginning all at once.She really meets her new soulmate. They actually talk this time.





	Plan B

Sam Wilson woke up with her hips rolling on the dick inside her. Her soulmate was asleep under her, but he was hard, and that was all that she cared about in the moment. 

She tucked her hands around him and under his back, her face pressed between his pecks, and took a deep breath of the smell of him and sex. They were basically indistinguishable from one another in her mind. Sex and sweat and him and her, an overpowering odor that would no doubt be unappealing to an outsider, not in the least because Sam had hardly left her bed in maybe two days. 

It didn’t really matter, because if she could have her way, they would never leave her apartment again. They had tried something like that after the first morning, and hadn’t gotten much farther than eating some granola bars before she bent over her cheap, wooden table, which sadly had not survived the following events. Still, what a way to go. 

At some point, while she was sitting on her living room couch, food network playing in the background, she had taken the time to notice some things about her soulmate. He was white, for instance. The head that had been buried between her thighs for the last 20 minutes came with dark brown hair that reached his shoulders. One of the arms that had been gripping her thighs in a bruising vice was made out of metal. That was interesting. 

Not interesting enough to make him stop, but interesting enough to put on a list of things to ask about. So far, it consisted of two questions.

1\. Your arm seems to be made out of technology more advance than anything I’ve seen outside of my military-grade winged jetpack. What’s up with that?  
2\. What is your name?

One might think it would be a bit awkward having sex for two days without knowing what name to call out, but Sam had consistently been beyond words, and her soulmate didn’t really make all that much noise at all. Even as Sam sat up so she could bounce harder on her soulmates cock, officially starting day three, neither of these pieces of information seemed all that relevant. Nothing was more important than the hips that were starting to snap back up at her, the hand gripping her hips to jerk her down, her soulmate's eyes that were open and staring so hard that she had to meet them. 

Words were not necessary to convey the feelings between them. Fuck me. Harder. Faster . Deeper. Never stop.

...

Sam woke up; surprised to find herself cognizant of the fact that she was still wearing one of her earrings. She was laying on her back with her head to the side and could feel the pinch of it in her ear lobe and on her neck. The bed was devoid of sheets and pillows, but she was warm and covered by the body of her soulmate pressing down on her, pressing in her, soft but leaving her feeling comfortably filled. 

Sam was dazed to find herself with no real motivation to try to move in anyway. For a few minutes, with the afternoon sun shining through her west facing windows, Sam was completely at peace with life, satisfied and fulfilled. 

Except for the pinch of her earing. And the soreness radiating from every inch of her body. Her inner thighs were straining with how open they were and the man above her was too heavy for her to move given how weak her muscles felt. And honestly, she felt super gross. Just sticky, slimy, and disgusting.

And yet, despite the fact that a five-day sex marathon was quickly catching up to her, Sam Wilson had to admit that she was feeling the best she had since being discharged.  
It had never occurred to Sam that she would meet another soulmate. Honestly, after Riley had died, she wasn’t really interested: not in replacing her first soulmate and not in losing another. Plus, while the chances of someone finding one soulmate was not particularly high in the first place, the chances of one finding a second, much less the third, were very low. 

She had beaten the odds once more and in such a spectacular way, too. 

Sam was in no hurry to move, except for the fact that she really wanted to close her legs, preferably without her soulmate waking up, because the guy seemed to have feelings and opinions about when she did that, but not waking up the man crushing her into the bed did not seem like a real possibility. She was surprised that he hadn’t already woken up or at least gotten hard, with all the uncomfortable shifting that she was not able to stop, but then again Sam herself found it strange that she wasn’t getting horny. She had almost forgotten what not constantly being down to fuck felt like.

Her soulmate suddenly jerked, and Sam was brought to bare the very real truth that five day sex marathons with little to no continuous preparation had very real consequences on one’s body. She was so busy trying not to cry that she didn’t even notice that her soulmate had awakened. 

Until he moved to pull their upper bodies apart and she was re-introduced to another unfriendly facet of sex. Being stuck together by dried semen. 

“Shit.” Sam squeaked, as the fine hairs of her torso were ripped from her body. “Fuck.” She whimpered as her soulmates pelvis pushed more firmly into hers, and for the first time in five days, her pussy was not feeling it. Her thighs protested the stretch. Her ribs were the only grateful part of her body, and it didn’t last long before they started to complain about the rough treatment they had had over the last couple of days, as well. 

Asset propped himself over his soulmate, who seemed to be in pain. She was obviously unwilling to move because of it, and it occurred to him that that was something else that he might need to train out of her; pain was not something to give in to, but to power though. 

And yet as soon as he thought that, a stronger thought surged to the forefront. He would never let anything hurt her. 

To that end, the Asset immediately began creating a list of people that he was going to kill. He split it into a list of three: absolutely necessary, something he would enjoy, and cannon fodder. He then gave them sub sections of as soon as possible, immediately after that, and whenever he got around to it. He then thought that maybe he should just have a list of nine, and then put them in order of urgency, rolling over the order in his mind, stuck between whether “something he would enjoy/as soon as possible” should come before “absolutely necessary/ immediately after that”.

Sam was taking the time to get a good look at her soulmate, seeing as he seemed to be frozen in thought, though less like an actual human being who would be moving at least a little, and more like a computer using too much memory. He was in great shape, and it was clear to her why she hadn’t made it further that first night. She took a moment to be a bit impressed with herself that she had gotten so far. 

She also confirmed that the man’s arm was definitely made of metal, which was…hmm, maybe he was an android, Sam thought fancifully. Even if he wasn’t, he was definitely a cyborg, which saw worth cool scif-fi points. If that was a positive thing you looked for in a soulmate. 

Sam was feeling silly and nauseous with hunger. Whatever scraps they had been feeding on for the last business week had not been enough. Also she needed to pee. It was time to make an effort to rejoin the real world, and that meant, getting her fatass soulmate out and off of her before he caused further damage to her pelvis. Sam expended every bit of the strength and determination that remained in her thoroughly defeated body and booped him on the nose. Tried. She tried to cutely boop him on the nose. It was more of a really slow, gentle punch, but hey, at least he was actually looking at her and not through her. It was very intense, the cyborg’s gaze, but that was okay; she liked them intense.

“hhehh.” Sam rasped, coughed, and tried again. “Hey.” 

The two soulmates stared into each other’s eyes. Not overcome by lust for the first time since they met, it was somehow new and familiar to look at the person in front of them and to see a face not in the throes of passion. Eyes that were window to a soul that existed outside of mindless fervor. They looked into to each other and saw actually people, and with that revelation came the realization that that they themselves were different than before, but just as real and now open to new discovery of said self. For Sam, it was an almost gentle experience; she had done this before. For the Asset, it was a bit of a mind fuck. He looked into himself and realized for the first time in a long time that there was little there. 

And yet, that was for the best. He didn’t need anything but his skills and his plan and his list. The Asset would not worry about anything but the mission: ensure Samantha Wilson’s safety as quickly and efficiently as possible. That would fill his time for the next decade for sure, the rest of his life, even. The rest of her life.

“Samantha Wilson.” The Asset stated, pulling away abruptly. Sam gasped audibly, starting to curl into herself, before he unthinkingly brought his flesh hand down to grip on her one of her thighs. He examined her exposed, vulnerable body. “You require minor medical aid.”

“Oh nice, you know my name.” Sam grimaced in the best rendition of a smile she was capable of at the moment. “Care to introduce yourself.”

“I am the Asset.” The Asset released his soulmate, who made no further moves to obscure her body, and got up from the bed. “You require medical assistance.” 

“The asset is not a name.” Sam smiled a bit more reasonable, throwing in some charm. “Come on, even if you are an android, certainly your, um, certainly someone gave you something resembling more than a designation or title.”

The Asset scowled. Samantha Wilson was ignoring her health concerns to continue an unimportant line of questioning. “I am called Winter S-“

“Winter’s a pretty interesting name.” Sam decided her best bet would be to attempt to stretch at this point, but the bed was gross enough that she didn’t try too hard. It hurt, anyway. “So what’s with that arm, Winter? And what’s with the star?”

Sam noticed that Winter was hilariously unable to decide what to do with his face, as he apparently fidgeted in discomfort, seemly going through a silent categorization of his body, wiggling his fingers, flex his arms tilting his head, tensing his muscles until he went all the way down to his toes, which he focused on a little. He spent a fascinated moment on the fluffy rug beside her bed. He then took a page from her book and ignored her question. 

“I will look for sustenance and appropriate attire.” He settled on a determined expression. “Stay away from the windows.”

Sam enjoyed the view as he power walked his naked ass out of her tiny bedroom, avoiding the instances of broken knick knacks with ease. She couldn’t even be upset when he stepped on everything else that wouldn’t be damaging without hesitation; more than one of her stuffed birds, including Edward Heron, got a face full of foot. With the possibility of food in her future, her stomach decided to preemptively start to eat itself. It had to wait, however, because despite her many aches and pains, Sam shot out of bed like the devil was after her. 

Or like she really needed to pee.


End file.
